


Stall Turn

by enviropony



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/pseuds/enviropony
Summary: The stall turn is badly named. There is no point in the maneuver at which the airplane technically stalls. There is, however, a moment of Zero-G.That's how Carol feels when she thinks about Maria - weightless.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	Stall Turn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiccy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/gifts).

It’s been days since they left Earth. Carol’s inside the ship for a change, just waking from a nap in Soren’s hammock, listening to the rumble of the engines in the bulkheads around her. She can tell they’ve just traversed a Jump Point, and a tap at her wrist brings up more details: where they are now, ship’s time, Hala time. Earth time.

It’s late evening in Louisiana, Friday night sliding rapidly toward Saturday. Carol wonders if Monica is asleep by now, or if Maria let her stay up late to watch television. What’s even on at night these days? 

Carol has a vague memory of watching the newest late-night talk show, Arsenio Hall, and crashing on Maria’s couch afterwards. Maria had drawn a blanket over her, brushed a hand over her hair. Carol thinks Maria may have kissed her temple, too, but she’s not sure. It might have been a dream.

She thinks they’d been working up to something, the two of them – something scary, that could have lost them both their jobs and their families, something that could have lost Carol her best friend and her best kid if it had gone wrong. Just the thought of it sets her heart racing. 

But as terrifying as that something is, it also makes her want to whoop like she’s doing barrel rolls, like weightless freefall and the wind in her face, G-force pressing her into her seat, that moment of breathless infinity at the apex of a stall turn. Carol wants it, needs it, feels the lack of it crumpling something in her chest.

She startles out of the hammock, trying to escape the warring sensations, flight and falling, hope and crushing doubt. She’s being ridiculous. Even if there’d been something growing between them, it’s been six years. Carol barely remembers who she is. How can she find her way back to what they had? Monica’s lived without her, beyond her. They can’t possibly connect that way again.

Especially when Carol’s out in space.

\- - - 

The journey back to Earth is, of course, shorter than the outbound. It’s a straight shot, for one, not Jumping from system to system looking for habitable planets, ducking meteor clouds and nebulas the cruiser’s shields won’t withstand, doubling back on the basis of a rumor only to come up empty-handed. For another, Carol’s got the hang of this free-flying-through-space thing, now. She, herself, can travel _considerably_ faster than light. She can also use the Jump Points, which she does as often as she finds them, because FTL travel still takes time, but FTL travel plus Jump Points make her the fastest-moving thing in three galaxies. No reason she shouldn’t take advantage.

It’s Wednesday morning in Louisiana when Carol appears above Earth, trepidation rising. Maria might be busy. Is Monica on her way to school? Maybe Carol ought to wait until the afternoon. They’ve been living their lives without her for seven years now; how anxious can they really be to see her again?

Then there’s the issue of getting down to the ground without being seen. Something that must be a manned satellite had hurtled by a little while ago, and if Carol dawdles up here any longer, it’ll come by again. The airspace over Louisiana is fairly active. She kind of wishes she’d arrived at night; a meteor’s a lot easier to explain than a flying woman.

Well, no matter. Carol starts slipping through the thermosphere, slow enough that she’s not creating plasma in her bow wave, then slower still so she can register and react to air traffic. It’s not long before she’s on the ground, the sod of Maria’s back yard springy under her boots. 

The house seems quiet. When Carol peeks out front, there’s no car in the driveway. The hanger is empty of people. She knocks on the front door, once, twice, but there’s no answer. A engine rumbles on the distant road. Birds and insects are her only companions, their song accompanied by leaves rustling in the breeze.

Carol tries the doors, but they’re all locked. There’s nowhere to sit out back, so she takes her chances on the front porch, deciding that really, if somebody wants to come onto Maria’s property, they can deal with the lady in the weird outfit.

She fiddles with the controls on her comms unit, just to see what’s floating in the airwaves, and ends up watching Gilligan’s Island reruns. The fact that she can remember what the show is called and who the characters are when so many other things are still blanks spaces in her head is beyond frustrating, but they’d caught up with a compatriot of Talos’ a few months ago who’d assured her that everything would come back to her. He’d had a run-in with the Kree memory suppression, himself.

So Carol watches, and waits, and eventually an old Camaro rolls into the driveway. 

Maria gets out, slow and cautious. “That you, Avenger?”

“It’s me, Photon,” Carol says, standing. “I was hoping I could crash here for a while?”

Maria comes up to the porch, but doesn’t climb the stairs. “I suppose you can. That jacket’s not hiding a damn thing, you know. I got neighbors. They ask questions.”

Carol glances down at the leather jacket she’d flow across galaxies in, and shrugs. “Wasn’t really thinking to hide anything?”

“Neighbors,” Maria repeats, coming up the stairs now. “Questions.” She walks on, right into Carol’s space, arms coming up to wrap Carol in the warmest embrace. Carol grabs hold and returns the favor. It feels so good, a weight sliding off her shoulders, to know she’s still welcome.

Maria pulls back eventually, though it takes her an age to let go. “I got ice cream in the car. Help me bring it in?”

There is ice cream, and frozen vegetables, rice, cans of beans, bottles of beer, bottles of motor oil, and an actual motor. 

“That goes in the hangar,” Maria says when Carol waves it at her, brows raised. “Monica’s working on a science project, but she got superglue all over the kitchen table so I’ve relegated the whole mess outside.” 

They amble over together, shoulders bumping. Maria put the motor oil under a table, nods at Carol to put the motor on top, and hops up next to it. “So how’s it been, out in the universe? Did you find your friends a place to stay?”

Carol leans against the table, arms folded. “We think so. There’s a planet where the terraforming didn’t work quite right. The settlement was abandoned, and the Skrulls were able to just move right in. There are even crops in the fields. The trouble is going to be getting all the other refugees there safely. It’s a long haul from Kree space.”

“But if they can get there, they’ll be in good shape.”

“Seems like it.” 

Maria doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but her gaze is intense. Carol has the urge to duck away from the scrutiny. When Maria speaks, it’s in a tender voice. “How’s your memory doing?”

Carol shrugs. “Better. There’s still a lot I don’t remember, but Hassen – he’s a friend of Talos’ – he says it should all come back eventually. It took him a couple of year..” She takes a breath and decides to plunge right in, because she’s never been one to tiptoe around a thing. “I did remember something. About you and me.” 

Maria blinks and tilts her head in a go-on gesture. “Okay.”

“We were… were we…?” But she doesn’t know how to phrase it. Way to go, ace. Maria doesn’t look like she knows where this is heading yet, so no help from that quarter. Carol’s chest goes tight, and her heart starts racing. “Okay, so I feel like we were working on something, before the crash. You know. Between us.”

Maria blinks again.

“Romantically,” Carol clarifies.

Maria draws a breath, not quite a startled sound. She’s still watching Carol, and Carol stares back, wondering if her desperate need to be right shows in her face. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind for a year, thinking she was being foolish, but she’s here now and she can’t wait any more.

“You’re… not wrong.” Maria says finally, looking down. “We were definitely– you were a terrible flirt, you know that? Shameless. And I was afraid.”

“I think I was, too,” Carol admits. “Of losing our jobs. Of people judging. But mostly of losing you and Monica. If it went wrong. Or if you didn’t want me. But I think you did.” She ducks her head, trying to catch Maria’s eye, and smiles when she does. “I think you did.”

“I did,” Maria says, but she’s not smiling. “And I was gutted when you died. I learned to live without you, though. I’m not sayin’ it was easy, but I did it. Then you were alive all of a sudden, but you left again, and it’s been another year, girl, I hope you didn’t come back just because you remembered that we used to flirt!” 

It’s a punch in the gut, all of Carol’s fears confirmed. Maria doesn’t need her, doesn’t want her like that anymore. She’d been right to feel foolish. 

Carol wants to step it back, say it’s fine, she understands, it was a long time ago. But there are tears in Maria’s eyes, and she doesn’t look angry – she looks disappointed. 

“I would have come back no matter what,” Carol says, words catching in a scratchy throat. She needs Maria to know that. “Even if I didn’t remember another thing, I would have come back. You’re the only family I have, and I want to know how you’re doing. I want to see you. Always. If there’s nothing between us, that’s… I’ll deal. I just, I want to spend time with you. I want a home, if you’ll have me.”

Maria sniffles, wipes her eyes, takes a breath. “You have a home here. You do. But you can’t just spring a thing like that on a person. I don’t know how the Kree did it but that’s not how we do it on Earth. And we need to talk about Monica. What do I tell her? How long are you staying?” 

That brings Carol up short, because she hasn’t really thought about it. The nebulous idea of a romance with Maria and the assumption that Carol will keep helping the Skrulls, they can’t exist in the same universe. But she’s pretty sure Maria’s not just asking for Monica’s sake, and now that Carol’s here, the idea of leaving again is unbearable. 

The question is, is Carol capable of staying here, making a home here, if Maria doesn’t want her?

Maria’s watching her, and Carol remembers that expectant, penetrating look. _Make the right choice. I know you’re capable._

“I’ll have to leave now and then.” She has to be honest about that. She has a great power, and people out there need her help. “But I want to stay here. Live _here_. Even if you’re not interested in me anymore.”

Maria huffs, but she’s smiling. “You got all the right answers, don’t you?”

Carol shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

“Well, I got good news for you. I still like you like that. I still want you like that. I still miss you, so much, every goddamn day.” 

It’s like powering into the climb, full throttle, this sense of elation. Up and up and up until the engine can’t fight gravity any more, and Carol feels the zero-g, and she knows, kick in the rudder, pivot and power on through.

“I thought about you all the time out there,” Carol says, edging closer. Maria slides off the table and turns toward her. “I wondered what you were doing, whether you were happy. Whether you still needed me.”

“Carol, baby, I’m always gonna need you,” Maria says, reaching out for Carol’s jacket and tugging her in. “You’re part of my story.”

Carol leans in, daring to rest her forehead against Maria’s. Maria’s skin is warm, and she smells faintly like flowers, an incongruity to the steely test pilot persona.

Maria puts her arms on Carol’s shoulders, brings their bodies flush. She rubs her cheek against Carol’s, noses at her jaw, and then gently, so gently, brings their lips together. 

It’s warm and sweet and sends a shock through Carol, makes her tingle and shiver and press closer. She feels Maria smiles against her lips, trail her fingers up Carol’s neck… The sensations pile on, overwhelming; Carol breaks the kiss, wraps her arms around Maria and just holds on.

“It’s a lot, huh?” Maria murmurs into her hair.

“Yeah,” Carol says, watching insect darting in the hazy Louisiana sunlight, “but I can handle it.”

“I think you can, baby. I think you can.”

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> The [stall turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FB2C39B5buw), or hammerhead, is one of the more well-know aerobatic maneuvers.


End file.
